Page 37 of Glass Wings
“I have no appropriate comeback to that insult.” She looked at him, burping.
“Never quick with words, I see.”
“I thought it best to avoid spewing the violent thoughts that came to my head. We are here to beg for your help after all,” she said, holding up a finger to the bartender to ask for another drink. The bartender obliged.
“Of course you need something. Why else would the original clan make the long journey? It couldn’t be for a friendly visit, could it?”Amis asked, turning towards Arryn and Djoser with his eyebrows raised high.
“We will be confronting the creators, the gods. We need all of the Waihema villagers who are able-bodied and winged to fight alongside us if there is to be any chance,” said Arryn.
Amis stood up from his barstool, drink in hand, and paced a few steps back and forth, considering Arryn’s words. He looked up and made eye contact with Djoser before smiling back down at his drink and emptying the cup.
“Djoser,” Amis started, “what is my purpose?”
“If we show up in front of the gods with large numbers, maybe no one has to fight,” Djoser said. “Maybe they will listen and spare two Kinnari lives.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Amis interrupted, “that was not my question.”
“You bring things into balance,” Reign butted in, waving her left hand in the air like a conductor.
“Thank you, at least someone was listening,” Amis mused. “While Reign here forces hands, Arryn creates them, and you, Djoser, destroy those same hands. When those hands are destroyed, the world becomes chaotic and out of balance. The pull on poor Precession’s body can be enough to make her collapse until I step in and stick my cock where it wouldn’t normally belong.”
“Your village, your children are meant to bring the world into balance? Do you not do that in other ways?” Arryn asked, confused.
“You were the first to leave after Tristan’s death; we never got to see your abilities develop properly,” Reign jumped in.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Amis pointed at Reign with as much disrespect in his eyes as he would allow to show.
“My children, my village, are not here to bring the world into balance. They only exist to bring our magic into balance.”
Djoser sat there in silence, contemplating what this could mean. When was magic not in balance? Were he and Arryn not magical opposites?
“What is happening that puts magic out of balance?” Arryn asked, his voice breathy and shaky. Djoser noticed the shadowshovering just above Arryn’s fingertips, his need for creation manifesting.
Amis noticed it as well, his eyes darting between Arryn and Djoser. “I think we are ready for the journey to Waihema. Arryn, some cloud cover could be helpful. It will be an hour's journey south through the skies.”
Arryn nodded, visible relief spreading across his temples, the lines in his forehead disappearing while he closed his eyes, and the natural light from the windows dimmed and grayed.
Amis paid their bill, and the four exited the restaurant onto the street. They moved to the back alley, one by one spreading their wings and shooting straight up into the air until they were past Arryn’s low, dense clouds.
Djoser followed the three, trailing behind purposely as they flew southwest, until he pulled his shoes off of his feet mid-air, landing with his toes in the green ocean waters. Reign, Arryn, and Amis turned towards him, wearing a mixture of expressions that signified that he, too, should have followed and landed in the sand. Djoser enjoyed his brief moment of being a nuisance, kicking the water up before him as he stepped up and out of the tide.
“It’s not often I get a beach vacation,” he shrugged, a satisfied gleam in his eye. Djoser looked ahead, past the beach, into the thick forest before him. It was his first visit to Waihema, yet all he could smell was the comforting aroma of death and decay. The smell faintly reminded him of the tombs in Egypt, the sacred places where he bade farewell to his mortal rulers, the puppets on his strings.
Amis saw Djoser’s nostrils flare as he caught up to them, and the four marched up to the forest together. In a near-synchronized motion, their wings tucked in and disappeared from view. They now traveled with noticeable distance between each body without their wingspans to accommodate.
“That smell is from the trees,” Amis said to Djoser. “They’re fossilized.”
Djoser didn’t believe a word of it, but nodded in agreement. Hecouldn’t tell if the other two noticed, but something was wrong. This wasn’t the happy, peaceful native village he had heard stories about.
“Maybe one day I can come and see the land you created as well,” Amis said to Djoser with sincerity.
“My home will always welcome Kinnari. We are depicted in hieroglyphics that lay uncovered and in national museums, though no one living knows me as such these days. Mortal technology has made trust nearly impossible.”
They reached a dirt path that opened up into a clearing. Small huts lined the path on each side, and a staged communal area sat as the focal point. Djoser followed behind the others as Amis marched them past Waihema villagers of all ages. Children who ran around and chased one another quickly froze in their tracks after laying eyes on Amis. Adult women and men stopped working on their chores to bow, keeping their eye contact steady.
A young toddler girl wearing a light teal dress ran up and tugged on Djoser’s hand, smiling widely.
“Kai kollei kie kii te tialkil i a matauj?” she asked, her high-pitched melodic voice ringing through the pathway as the adults stared with startled wide eyes.
